Author Topic: A Question for Herr Hauser and Senor Raul  (Read 159357 times)

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Silenus

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Re: Innocent III & Caraco
« Reply #90 on: September 03, 2020, 08:31:23 pm »
Raul,
  Thank you very much for translating those fragments. If you ever were to think of translating sentences/paragraphs that stand out to you, please do share them.

Yes, Judaism is a religion of sadness. They try and reject a tragic life of woe & violence with a refusal to look at it, to look at something Other and that in itself is tragic.

"And the strict master Death bids them dance."

The Creature

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Forgotten Intimacy
« Reply #91 on: September 04, 2020, 12:34:34 am »
Reading these last few posts of this thread brought to mind an excerpt I placed in the "All Writing is Pig Shit" thread with heading ANIMISM AND THE SACRED WINDS.

Specifically:

The ancient aleph-beth, as the first thoroughly phonetic writing system, prioritized the human voice. The increasingly literate Israelites found themselves caught up in a vital relationship with an all powerful human voice. It was a voice that preceded and outlasted every individual life. The written text became a portable homeland for the Hebrew people. Many of the stories are about displacement and exile. (Abram 1996)

The Hebrews were the first real caretakers of this great and difficult magic – alphabetic literacy.

The pain, the sadness of this exile, is precisely the trace of what has been lost – FORGOTTEN INTIMACY.


I was unable to leave a link since the url address has the word shit in it.  I'm getting so sick of this Nanny software built into the editor on freeboards, but what can I complain about?  This message board is FREE!

You can find it by placing the following, piece by piece, into the URL address bar of whatever web browser you are using:

http://whybother.freeboards.org/what-now/

all-writing-is-pig-shit/

msg1005/#msg1005

You can also find it in entry for 2011.11.11 (11 November 2011) in Dead End, Chapter 12 [The Steppenwolf Rediscovers Downtown Freehold (El Barrio)]

Just follow the 2011.11.11 hyperlink above, then Ctrl+F and type 2011.11.11

That will take you to the interesting notes on that tragically confusing religion which I learned in my studies of phenomenologist David Abrams.   

Take care and stay safe.

~ revived He Not Rich ~
« Last Edit: September 04, 2020, 12:51:18 am by Sticks and Stones »
Things They Will Never Tell YouArthur Schopenhauer has been the most radical and defiant of all troublemakers.

Gorticide @ Nothing that is so, is so DOT edu

~ Tabak und Kaffee Süchtigen ~

raul

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The semi-satisfied life
« Reply #92 on: September 04, 2020, 08:00:57 am »
Holden,

Thank you for your response. A few, like you, Hentrich, Silenus, Ibra and others, as you say, have been trying to figure out the cause of our ailment. The problems of human existence are only a concern for a few. Millions, even in this time of pandemic, think only of home, children, money, and entertainment.

It is not easy see ourselves the way we should. We are selfish, short-sighted, narrow-minded little beings.We want to reach for the stars but we are chained to Earth. Like the three monkeys we shut our eyes, our ears and mouths. Yes, this world is a prison.

Last week an acquaintance told me that a friend of hers had lost her husband because of the China bug. The guy had also, using these medical terms, underlying medical conditions, and two years before her daughter died in Brazil due to cancer. This couple prayed to the Catholic saints for their 19-year-old daughter´s recovery but she died nonetheless.
The thing is that this acquaintance said any suffering was nothing compared to this family´s tragedy. I did not want to continue with the conversation because we would go nowhere. Beside this person often talks about work and family.

Spanish is a difficult language and we forget the origins of “trabajar” (work) and familia (family). I learned that trabajar comes from the Latin word tripalliare. Tripalliare means torturing with the tripallium. Tripallium was a three-pointed trap that was used to tie horses or oxen and in that way shoeing them. It was also used as an instrument of torture against the slaves or prisoners.

Familia comes from the Latin word famulus. It means servant or slave. The word familia was equivalent to the patrimony and included not only the relatives but also the servants at the masters´ house in Ancient Rome.   

We are trapped by language.

P.S. You and the readers of this blog may find this article interesting.

https://aeon.co/essays/for-schopenhauer-happiness-is-a-state-of-semi-satisfaction


The Creature

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ataraxia
« Reply #93 on: September 04, 2020, 08:47:38 am »
Raul,

While reading the essay on Schopenhauer and the concept of happiness I came across this word, ataraxiaThus the Stoic aims for ataraxia, a state of inner calmness and serenity however turbulent the world outside might be.

While held involuntarily in the psychiatric hospital, my father (age 79) had been kind enough to pick up two shirts, two pairs of pants, a hoody, and one book, at my request, from my mom's domicile.  While a reader of this blog might think that book would have been Schopenhauer's The World as Will and Representation, Volume 1, I knew that such a text would not be practical.  I opted for Cioran's The Trouble with Being Born.

Well, unfortunately, due to the pills I was forced to imbibe there, I suffered an episode where I passed out and lay unconscious for a good 10 minutes before being revived by ambulance [emergency respondents] employees.  I had already been incarcerated in the psychiatric detention center for a week, and was set to be discharged in a couple days.  I wanted to be assured that being sent to a regular hospital would not mess up my release.  I was told that I would still be released as planned.

While in the hospital, after having my heart tested (turned out I had low blood pressure and low sugar as side effect of medications for "bipolar disorder"), somehow my notebook and the Cioran book were stolen.  I hope that it was taken by other inmates who were interested in my unique rhetoric.  There were a small band of thinkers interested in the things I was saying.   I had been taking notes from The Trouble with Being Born then reading those quotes aloud (with commentary) while pacing the hallways at all hours of the night.

At one point I had come across this word, ataraxia.  It was a key concept in getting the fuck out of that place.

In the regular hospital I was always guarded by a nurse who followed me wherever I was transported.  I was not allowed out of my room/cell; that is, I could not wander the hallways.  Long story short, I had been lied to.  By the time I returned to the psychiatric jailhouse compound "hospital" ward, the tricky fuckers said I had to be taken in afresh as a new patient, thereby starting the entire process of "being observed" all over again.   They were a real set of liars who had the full support of some arbitrary judge. 

I was to contact them after release, and I still have not brought myself to do so since I have ceased taking their damn meds.  I am recovering from the trauma they caused me, and they certainly do not have my respect.  I have disdain and contempt for their entire profession, much like our friend Artaud, that admirer of Van Gogh who was branded a "drug addict."

At this point, I will end this transmission.  I just want to note that I have always been ever so slightly confused about why you or Holden address just one member of the board at a time.  I thought that this is what private messages are for.   I would prefer that, when people post here in the forums, that they address an audience, a general readership; and yet, Lovecraft did exchange letters ... We live in interesting times, so there is no correct nor incorrect way of corresponding on such a message board.

I just think that addressing one individual discourages others from chiming in.

Take care, my brothers in spirit.
« Last Edit: September 04, 2020, 09:01:31 am by Sticks and Stones »
Things They Will Never Tell YouArthur Schopenhauer has been the most radical and defiant of all troublemakers.

Gorticide @ Nothing that is so, is so DOT edu

~ Tabak und Kaffee Süchtigen ~

raul

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Re: A Question for Herr Hauser and Senor Raul
« Reply #94 on: September 04, 2020, 04:22:12 pm »
Hentrich,

Thank you for your response. Yes, we are living interesting times, or living apocalyptic times.
What you went through in the psychiatric hospital was really awful, to say the least. In my view they could have killed you there with their fake treatment. But you are a tough guy and they did not realize you have endured much. Had you stayed longer the doctors could have gone mad.

Most doctors are thugs. I am seeing them as thugs here. They are always causing fear and anxiety to the population. I have the impression that they want more dead people. Although I do not trust judges, prosecutors or attorneys, one of these days a sort of justice will come to all of them. I learned this expression in Latin: 

Fiat justitia ruat coelum.
Let Justice be done, though Heavens may fall.”

In one of those textbooks in secondary school I learned about a Lusitanian warrior called Viriatus who fought the Romans in Hispania or Iberia. He won many victories over the Romans. Later he was betrayed and murdered while sleeping. The assassins wanted the Romans to pay them for the murder. The answer to them was “Rome does not pay traitors”. These doctors, politicians, judges, prosecutors and businessmen, who are behind this virus madness now, will in turn pay the consequences. Their masters will get rid of each one of them because once again Rome does not pay traitors.

You write that you were to contact them after your release. Is that mandatory? Can you have legal problems? I hope not.

Stay well.

raul

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Post Mortem - Albert Caraco
« Reply #95 on: September 05, 2020, 06:46:30 am »

Silenus,

Here are some paragraphs by Albert Caraco from Post Mortem:

My hatred for this world is the most estimable thing in me, I hate the world as a sick person and as a Jew, here are two most respectable titles, I love death and I do well, most of the sick people do not love it enough and their rage to live makes them unworthy, on their side the Jews do not love it at all and their attachment to existence is the reason for the disgust they inspire in others. These two races of men lack perspective, reserve and modesty, neither the sick nor the Jews will ever have style, they are poor in the worst sense of the word, who when they need them, they arm themselves with their misery. 

Mother loved life, not excessively, but a little more than usual, she condemned d suicide and rejected the idea of death, even dared to say that one had to live everything as if one would never die, so we saw her quite unarmed and lacking greatness, she believed in her doctors who lied to her with impertinence and the proximity of nothingness did not arouse her suspicions. My esteem for her was reduced to half, she was only a poor woman, her beautiful qualities were denied, I suffer for that, her will to live and her hope to be cured made her fail her demise. 


Mother had been ill for years, she did not know for sure what she had, she complained about her throat, apparently she suffered from laryngitis and often her voice was a little hoarse, those kinds of symptoms are usually considered alarming, but she did not consider herself in danger. Only one doctor scared her in that respect, but he treated her so roughly that she got sick of the character, anyway he would not have been able to save her, lung cancer is incurable. So the poor woman carried her death in her like a child that should be born, making her, in turn, perish.

Mother improved a lot with old age and I believe I had a lot to do with it; her taste was right, although sometimes she lacked discernment, in her what she had acquired was not up to the natural, but her mistakes were of the most scarce kind, and she even stopped committing them in the last times. I rarely saw her looking better than in the summer of the Sixties, the expression "healthy air" was not inappropriate, the disease was already incubating, that rather new shade of melancholy gave her charm and a certain style, for me it was a pleasure to walk next to a person who fixed his gaze without any desire in between.
 
We spent the summer of the Sixties in Vichy, where Mother was cured of her throat, the shrewd doctors she had consulted spoke of laryngitis, nobody suspected that death was lurking in that noble woman. A month later, in Biarritz, she felt as a first alteration and her face sank imperceptibly, in winter she hoarsened and coughed more than usual.


The following year she had a last moment of beauty in that beautiful cathedral of Aix, one would have thought of the color of the place or the reflection of its decorations. I had just witnessed its sunset; it was the last flash of light. 



It seems to me that this is a rather unusual love language in a man who pretends not to love his mother, these contradictions are natural, I am full of meanders, in short I write and that says it all, I get lost in my own path. Love or lack of love? Let's put them together or one after the other, the truth is, I ignore it. While Father sheds a few tears, my eyes remain as dry as ever, it is true that I never cry, I should not be labeled as indifferent, my ideas forbid me the pathos, my style forbids me even to contemplate it. 
« Last Edit: September 05, 2020, 06:52:07 am by raul »

raul

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Re: A Question for Herr Hauser and Senor Raul
« Reply #96 on: September 06, 2020, 07:44:11 am »
Paragraphs from Post Mortem by Albert Caraco

Menstruation, pregnancy and childbirth, and lactation cannot glorify such servitudes; they are disgusting and make many men tremble, even though they hide the horror they feel because they fear to be seen as monsters.  Men in love pretend to forget them, others keep silent, it is a subject that eludes and afflicts us all, Muslims claim that women will get rid of them when they are with us in Paradise, so there is little hope of cure, Jews thank God every day for having made them men.


Attention to women is therefore natural, we strive to comfort them from the misery that comes with their sex, commonly our laws serve to redouble it, starting with moral and religious laws, women seem to be their victims, even more deplorable by making them consent in their condition. For centuries, we have forced them into permanent pregnancy and instilled in them the most inhumane ideas: and what could be more atrocious than our ideal of fertility?  We degrade women to the level of impersonal instruments and force them to produce those to whom they immolate themselves. 


Blessed are the chaste! Blessed are the barren! Christ and Buddha were of the same opinion and since one and the other have died, how many of the billions of humans coming into the world seemed worthy of envy? A tiny number, no doubt. What did Plato say? That the happiest man of his time, the Great King of Persia, counted some few days as beautiful as a night without dreams. When I look at those who swear that life is a delight, I find them neither beautiful nor well-born, neither reasonable nor sensitive, neither fine nor wise, nor profound, but very similar to what they exalt. 



Noble beings seldom love life, they prefer reasons for living to life, and those who conform to life are always abject. What is desirable about life, when it is not sublime?  The pleasures of the body, not without wonder we see the ugliest and most unhealthy savoring them with a heightened rage and rushing into them with a fury that even abuse does not exhaust, the defeated nations are tidy in villains of the insatiable species, those beasts will at night make up for the servitudes that the day imposes upon them. Lord, deliver us from resembling the larvae! 

Mother had a quite similar philosophy to the one she professed in these pages, she did not want a second child and this resolution she took just after leaving her childhood: the vision of so many large families and all of them, unhappy, because they were numerous, dictated her the reasons of her behavior. His mistrust of love, from which he took me away, was not entirely alien to such motives, and he soon advised me of reasonable selfishness and armed me against all pleasures. The pupil returned his lessons to the teacher, the teacher finally gave up.

The story of an illness is of no interest and early death is a blessing.   Mother agonized for more than ten months, that began on November 1st, 1962 and ended during the night of September 8th and 9th, the prelude of her agony was frightening and we did not witness the conclusion, apparently less dramatic. In the early morning of November 1st, I saw at the foot of the bed a bucket full of blood and Father told me about it, the night before she did not look sick and towards the middle of the night she started to vomit abundantly, she looked like little less than a dying person.



Holden

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Re: A Question for Herr Hauser and Senor Raul
« Reply #97 on: September 06, 2020, 02:58:24 pm »
I have heard that in the Spanish speaking countries sometimes women like to put fireflies in their hair. Senor Raul,we are such vain creatures.
Women as well as men. Women and men are well matched for each other. I wonder if bull fights are popular in Paraguay.

People think so little, before getting married or having kids. I ,on the other hand, do not take them as unquestionable axioms. I have thought about them so frequently and so intensely that now those axioms  have been gutted through and through.

Women who are ,as they say, are "ready to pop" are feted and congratulated and the nameless tramp standing in the corner looking at the weird scene is despised and mocked. I think most married people would love to see the others get married too, because an unmarried person's very existence is a question mark in front of their choice to go through wedding and to breed.

I know better than to expect any kind of rational behaviour from human beings.  Senor, you might find it interesting to know that apart from the Cathars and the Bogomils, the Manicheans ( Augustine was ,to begin with, a Manichean), also abhorred child birth.

But we do not speak of such things in the polite company. Not unless one is a pariah. Like me. I speak these unacceptable things.

The wedding planners and the obstetricians..they will never tolerate such talk. Bad for business.

Take care.
La Tristesse Durera Toujours                                  (The Sadness Lasts Forever ...)
-van Gogh.

Holden

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Re: A Question for Herr Hauser and Senor Raul
« Reply #98 on: September 07, 2020, 04:27:47 pm »
Life seems so unreal except when I am in pain ,Mr.Silenus. It is pain which defines my life,one's life. Bodily pain as well as mental anguish.
And all this drama ,all this agony..for what exactly? People have children unthinkingly. Some of them have kids because the others are having kids and so the wheel of life keeps turning.

We maybe be more complicated but we are insects too.Where ever one looks its blood and gore. Animals tearing each other apart.
Wedding ceremonies are so funny. The man and the woman know very well that they would be sleeping with the others within days and yet they all pretend to be so solemn.There is nothing solemn about it. But is it ,I concede,very sad.

La Tristesse Durera Toujours                                  (The Sadness Lasts Forever ...)
-van Gogh.

Holden

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La Tristesse Durera Toujours                                  (The Sadness Lasts Forever ...)
-van Gogh.

raul

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Post Mortem by Albert Caraco
« Reply #100 on: September 08, 2020, 07:15:56 am »
Doctors followed one another like a flock of ravens, all of them impotent, all of them susceptible, jealous of one another, disputing over relationships, and even before death they did not forget their pride. These gentlemen have not changed so much since the times of Molière, but today they will kill you for more money; Mother enriched that guild, as well as that of drug manufacturers, received several hundreds of different injections and absorbed an incalculable number of pills, so many as to annihilate a whole herd of cattle. At the time of her death, medicine boxes formed the pyramid. 

May these paintings be forgiven, I only portray the truth. I do not bear a grudge against doctors, they are poor men like their patients, who become insensitive out of obligation, even though I would have wished at times that their profession was only available to hopeful saints, and that the spectacle of our sufferings did not harden them to the point of increasing them.  The strangest thing was that they were laughing, at the very moment when one would have wept gladly: at the bedside of the dying they represented not life, but the nothingness of the world, victim of their grimace,
they did not even know how to comfort the one they could not cure.

I said, and I stand by it, I did not like Mother's family, but between ourselves, I think she felt the same way, she kept her relatives at a distance more and more, and twenty-five years ago we lost track of them. When she was young, she had very few points of similarity with those people, but in her maturity none of that survived, something that pleased me and I congratulated her for a change that gave her a better appearance.  I made her notice the vilely horrendous air of this or that, she readily admitted it.   

She possessed the art of making happy those who lived with her as well as those who worked for her, a double virtue of the best born women, all those who approached her were happy to have known her, she never offended anyone, the rejected deserved it. The sense of order took on the dimension of harmony, her qualities were strengthened over time as her judgment was sharpened, as for old age, she had no reason to fear it, she was approaching it when it still seemed so distant and it was only thanks to a merciless evil that age was brought down on her.

I feel that I am becoming too personal and I stop, as my modesty is again being claimed. The world is full of very nice and very remarkable women, several million families are convinced of this and not everything is illusion in such views, complacency certainly works miracles, but objectivity begins where outsiders proves us right. I just believe in the virtues of Mother, since there are those who are interested in her person and seem to be moved by her absence; courtesy does not go so far and lies would be exhausted. She will live in my writings and this is the way to pay my debt. 

Mother's dresses are of the best taste, and as I contemplate them I am overcome by a quite voluptuous melancholy; the world of women has its pleasant things and the sublime, which surpasses everything, does not replace them; accessories and trifles have a form of eloquence; their common denominator is happiness.  I love the glory of the chosen ones but, I must confess, the dressing table of a beautiful woman -all proportion kept- complements it, I ignore delights of existence, but I esteem them, and I was unable to cultivate them, my life is dark and militant… It's just that I had a piece of wall to watch over.   

I surprise myself inhaling Mother´s perfumes, they return it to me at once and you can already guess by what enchantment, it is a profound joy that by restoring a presence to me that contains a philosophy, I have recovered -like Marcel before me- the time, I have tasted the Sabbath and I refer the reader of my pages to those others in which I analyzed the work of Proust in the light of the Jewish mystics. Marcel was one of the architects of time, a true Assidonense. Many French people still need to understand him, for now they only enjoy him and in vain ask themselves: why does the charm operate? 

Mother's closet is full of treasures, Father, in fact, doesn't discover them, he sees in them only excuses for tears, everything hurts him, the slightest memory hurts him, the last few months hide the years, the mask of death dims the lights of a hundred times longer life, of two fantasies he chose the wrong one, and confused misery with supreme truth, I dare to tell him that he was fooling himself? What do the dark weeks prove? They only prove themselves and do not testify against the past or against the dream that will follow them forever. 

It was around 1960 when Mother became melancholic and that took on the most beautiful air in the world, that change whose cause I could not penetrate made it more endearing to my eyes, the shadows of death are the school of absolute coldness and eternal life would be the condiments of love. One loves the one who threatens tomorrow, and even more so the greater the threat, God does not love and is not an object of love, divine love is nonsense, it better, certainly, is not to love anyone and for that it is necessary to start by ourselves. He who makes a profession of hating himself breaks with sensitive attachments. 

When we think our feelings, our feelings fade away, it is enough that the look of the Spirit hangs over them to reduce them to ashes in the act.  Mother has died, either I hang myself or I forget her, I wanted to destroy myself, I felt that I had some books in my head, I decided to live as long as necessary and forget the annihilated one, my weekly agenda had no other purpose, it saved me the abyss from I was going to jump into.  We must bury our dead or we must follow them, immolate ourselves in their graves or turn our backs on them without shedding a single tear... 




raul

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Yawar Mallku, Blood of the Condor
« Reply #101 on: September 08, 2020, 07:22:30 am »
Holden,

Thank you for your response. Bull fights are popular but mostly in the countryside but here bullfights are different from the ones in Spain.

Yes, we, men and women, are vain creatures.  Here we have the tradition of quinceañeras, when a girl turn 15 there is a big party where the girl is in the process of becoming a woman. This is an important event. I have seen the pictures sometimes of their proud fathers and mothers. Will I tell them that their girl is ready for a future wedding? No, I won´t. It is not polite to say such things.

You say people think so little before getting married or having kids. In reality, we use our diiccks instead of our brains.  Most, in my view, agree to have children just to show they are already very mature.

Indeed it is improper to speak of unacceptable things in the polite company. An acquaintance refused to accept the truth of this law of life: Everything that is born must die. This person said that parents or grandparents must die before children die. This world shows that this is not always the case.

Yes, wedding planners, obstetricians, even those who are to retire soon will never tolerate such talk. After all who is going to pay for their retirement if there are no new generations of slaves?

We are irrational and cruel creatures. That is the way we have been made. I have always blamed the powers that be for their cruelty. But those below are also cruel. Everything is connected. Our true father is Cain because we enjoy killing each other.

Otto René Castillo (1936-1967), was a Guatemalan poet and guerrilla fighter. He joined the struggle as a chief of propaganda. Later he was captured by the army and taken to the barracks where he was tortured and burned alive with Nora Páiz, his partner.

Some lines in his poem, El gran Inconforme, The Great Nonconformist,say:

Nunca preguntes            Never ask a man if he suffers
A un hombre               because one always suffers in some    
Si sufre,                         way, on some road.
Porque siempre
Se está sufriendo
En alguna forma
Y en algún camino.

Take care.

P.S. Below is a scene of a movie called Yawar Mallku, Blood of the Condor, directed by Jorge Sanjinés in 1969, a Bolivian filmmaker. It is based on a true story where women of the Quechua community were being sterilized clandestinely by a so-called Progress Corps (in reality the U.S. Peace Corps). When the Quechua elders find out what is happening they attack the doctors but the attackers are captured and executed by the Bolivian military. This even happened in the 1960s.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3u3q6PGurk

Holden

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Re: A Question for Herr Hauser and Senor Raul
« Reply #102 on: September 08, 2020, 04:51:57 pm »
It would be best,Senor Raul, if we are all sterilized,if the earth, this evil sphere which breeds monsters is itself sterilized for good.
Venus and Mars are much better compared to this unholy ground which is the breeding place for such strange life forms.I say no to life, a thousand times.

How difficult life is, how very stress-inducing. We breathe in anxiety and panic. Every organ of the human body can malfunction in zillions of ways.
But even the smallest and the weakest creature wants to live, to live for as long as possible and to breed too.

Once one has read Schopenhauer, there is no going back.There is no inherent pattern, our minds project one.
Then there is sheer bodily pain which can get so intense, so very intense, that one can easily go raving mad.

Take care.


https://youtu.be/tTyM9ctSU8g
« Last Edit: September 08, 2020, 04:53:42 pm by Holden »
La Tristesse Durera Toujours                                  (The Sadness Lasts Forever ...)
-van Gogh.

The Creature

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Re: A Question for Herr Hauser and Senor Raul
« Reply #103 on: September 08, 2020, 08:39:22 pm »
Quote from: Holden
How difficult life is, how very stress-inducing.
We breathe in anxiety and panic.
Every organ of the human body can malfunction in zillions of ways.
But even the smallest and the weakest creature wants to live, to live for as long as possible and to breed too.

Once one has read Schopenhauer, there is no going back.
There is no inherent pattern, our minds project one.
Then there is sheer bodily pain which can get so intense,
so very intense, that one can easily go raving mad.

philo-poetic prose
toothaches make one paranoid about the nature of our own wiring

Things They Will Never Tell YouArthur Schopenhauer has been the most radical and defiant of all troublemakers.

Gorticide @ Nothing that is so, is so DOT edu

~ Tabak und Kaffee Süchtigen ~

raul

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Re: A Question for Herr Hauser and Senor Raul
« Reply #104 on: September 09, 2020, 03:28:35 pm »
Holden,

Thank you for your response and your patience in reading my scribblings.  You say no to life a thousand times. You are an enlightenend human being, Holden, but milions do not think, act, and behave like you. What you write in this board will only be understood by a few. We live in a very twisted world.

You know in life there is always discrimination. I mean to say that there are the enlightened and unenlightened ones. Jesus, as I remember, had his apostles who understood his message. The Cathars had their perfectus, the only ones who preached while the common folks went about their daily business. You have the monks, nuns, the hermits and the anchorites who live far from the crowds.

Once I read about a man called Ramakrishna who was born the son of a poor Brahman on February 20, 1833 in Kamarpukur, in Bengal. Later in life he “became obsessed by the desire to see the reality which lay behind the image of Kali which he tended every day at the temple, and he fasted and prayed continuously. To humble himself, he cleaned out the temple privies with his bare hands and ate the remains of food which had been left by the beggars. He then swept and washed clean their eating place. He cultivated an indifference to worldly goods which he would express by taking a pile of coins in one hand and earth in the other, shouting ‘Money is dirt! dirt is money!’ before throwing both into the Ganges.”

Money is dirt! Dirt is money
uttered this man. Unfortunately only a few, would agree with him while millions, including me, would never throw money into a river.

I saw many years ago a movie called Dead Man Walking with actors Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn. It was the story of Catholic sister Helen Prejean who had a relationship with Mathew Poncelet, a prisoner on death row in Lousiana. He was sentenced to death for killing a man and raping and stabbing a girl 17 times. In one scene the victim´s father says to the Catholic sister: 

This is not a person. This is an animal.
Matthew Poncelet is God´s mistake. 

These are the words many would say against you or any other who write that it would be best if we are sterilized on this Earth. But they never would utter the words above to those who masterminded this biological attack aka pandemic.
Death is all around us and Death comes in different and strange ways. I read in a Paraguayan digital newspaper, Extra.com.py that one year and three month-baby fell into a bucket of water on Sunday while playing in his house in Minga Pora, a city 413 kilometers from the capital. His mom took him to the health center. There, a doctor confirmed that her baby had died. What an absurd death!

Also last month I saw a picture in the same digital newspaper. It shows the image of a cemetery, the grave´s s words on a small piece of wood in Spanish: “Teófila Villalba. Nació el 27-VII-1967. Murió el 02-VI-2020”, This woman was born on July 27,1967 and died on June 2,2020. The woman allegedly died of Covid-19. No visitors, nobody, all this because she was struck by the China bug.

Stay safe.